


Blood of the Witch

by brazenedMinstrel, Greypaws



Category: Witchville (Movie)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, In which we make a racist stereotype not racist, Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Please don't watch the movie, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenedMinstrel/pseuds/brazenedMinstrel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greypaws/pseuds/Greypaws
Summary: Please don't actually watch Witchville!! It's a horrible movie with a plot that makes no sense, wooden acting and terrible special effects.In short: Greypaws and I watched this movie because the actress who plays Jozefa has become famous in The Witcher. We were horrified by its quality, but couldn't resist trying to write a fix-it. We made it gay and tried to improve the horrible plot a little.In this fic, there is no weird heterosexual relationship that pops up out of the blue, there are lesbians instead, the cool archer lady lives, there is hurt/comfort and a healthy relationship for poor Jozefa (who desperately needs a hug)
Relationships: Jozefa/Darian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't watch Witchville, or if you watch it, please take it with a whole can of salt.

The tide of battle was turning in their favour. Jozefa couldn’t suppress a tiny smirk from curling the left corner of her mouth as she watched how the big warrior perished, his younger brother crying like a lost boy. As he swore promises of revenge that he would never be able to keep, Jozefa scanned the battleground. The soldiers from Cathay, who had joined the king for reasons she couldn’t fathom, were battling the coven. Malachi himself was shouting commands, not drawing his own blade. A foolish move, and a chance Jozefa couldn’t waste. 

Just as she was about to leap forward, daggers drawn, an arrow whistled past her shoulder. It missed her by the barest of inches. The sudden projectile made her breath catch in her throat as she stumbled backwards. Inelegantly, she slipped on the muddy town ground, sliding backwards as she fought to regain her balance for a few moments. Once her boots had stopped sliding, she poised herself to sprint in the archer’s direction. Yet she didn’t get far. 

  
The woman jumped down from the rooftop she had been seated on, shouldering her bow as she leapt. Two paces was all the distance in between her and Jozefa. As quick as the red queen’s daughter was, she could barely raise her dual daggers above her head before the woman’s curved swords clashed against them. The harsh ring of metal stung in her ears and the impact sent a sharp ache down her arms. Jozefa was physically not the strongest person, favouring stealth above brute strength. And she was definitely no match in a battle of brawn against one of the warrior-women of Cathay. 

Fighting this one proved to be a challenge regardless, since no matter how quickly Jozefa sidestepped and dodged, she couldn’t seem to put distance between herself and the archer. No, the black haired woman kept their footsteps locked in a tight dance that Jozefa couldn’t escape. It wasn’t often that someone could match her in combat, though this was cutting it a little close for her liking. Not that she couldn’t heal herself in case she was wounded, but whether accepting the spells of a coven member or depleting a peasant’s life force to restore her own, it always hurt to mend injuries with magic. And she would have to face her mother’s scornful, disappointed look, as she always received when she was wounded in battle. Perhaps that look hurt worse than the injuries themselves. 

Finally, Jozefa was able to get a single slash in, through the onslaught of swift strikes that those two silvery blades rained down upon her. The edge of her dagger hit many layers of woven leather, with as many wrappings of fabric underneath. It cut through some, but then hit a concealed metal plate, hidden within the leather. The hook just underneath the dagger’s handle caught on the strips of woven leather, wrenching her wrist sideways. Its purpose was to guard her hand and catch weapons, leaving their wielder open for an attack, yet now it worked against her when the woman from Cathay slashed downwards. Jozefa had to let go of her right hand weapon to save her arm. 

Swiftly, she threw the identical blade in her left hand to the right, parrying another fast strike and forcing her opponent’s blade to the side. She had no time to gather her magic in her hand, since focusing the energy always took a few seconds. So she struck with her left fist, expecting to beat the woman down. Yet the skull that met her knuckles seemed to be hard as stone. Jozefa was once again forced to retreat when the archer was about to retaliate with a headbut. The black facial tattoo that the warrior proudly wore on her skin came at the blonde woman far too quickly for her comfort. Her swift reflexes saved her once again from a tumble into the mud. 

Casting a quick look at the town hall, she saw that her mother was fighting the younger brother. He fought with reckless rage, an easy opponent. But they weren’t trying to kill any of the king’s allies, for each one of them might know where their prized book was. The book that could hold the keys to their destruction as well as their victory. Jozefa felt a sting in her chest. It was _she_ who had been instructed to bring it to her mother, and it was she who had failed. 

Her breath sped up in her chest as her mouth twitched into a sneer. Yet she remembered her training. The harsh lessons that taught her not to let anger take over. She would only risk more ire from her mother if she failed to accomplish anything in this battle. 

Perhaps the warrior woman knew more.

As her opponent charged at her, blades flashing through the air, Jozefa stretched out an arm. Her rushed breath calmed when she gathered magic in the palm of her hand, the familiar purple colour lighting up her eyes. She felt the energy concentrate underneath her skin, and felt the markings on her cheeks and brow darken as she called upon the power within. 

The bolt erupted from her hand as the woman from Cathay closed the final steps between them. It hit her in the chest as Jozefa’s outstretched fingers brushed just against her leather cuirass. The queen’s daughter sidestepped as her assailant unceremoniously fell into the mud by her feet. Droplets of soiled water splashed against her boots and higher, soaking through the fabric of her tight red pants. 

Then the warrior dug an elbow into the mud and pushed herself upwards, her face screwed up in pain, yet her eyes burning with anger. Her blades lay in the mud beside her, out of reach. But a soldier of her status wouldn’t come unprepared to a fight. She reached for the jade hilt of a curved dagger on her belt. 

Jozefa’s eyes went wide. The spell should have been enough to knock her out instantly, such was her power. She did not want to cast it again and risk killing the woman before getting any information out of her. 

She wouldn’t have to. No matter how tough the soldier was, she couldn’t overpower the magic through sheer force of will. As her fingers touched the cool stone of her dagger’s hilt, her eyes rolled in their sockets and she passed out. 

King Malachi continued to fight with ferocity, but without two of his most fearless warriors, Jozefa could see the resolve in his eyes begin to fade. The coven was overtaking them and even as proud as he was, he began to shift from a forward momentum to a retreat.

“Fall back!” was his cry as he and his men began to withdraw from the battle under a heavy barrage of arrows, which rained from the sky. Fired from the bows of the remaining Cathay warriors who were now diligently protecting the king and the few remaining fighters able to heed his call. Jozefa spun quickly, dodging the projectiles. She inhaled through her teeth sharply as one of the arrows very nearly struck her in the leg.

She flashed another mocking grin as he raised his sword and pointed it at her, still dripping with the blood of the coven. There had been casualties, Jozefa felt each one of them as they died. It mattered little, for the red queen had ways of acquiring new followers, be it by force or not.

“Until later,” he said as he mounted his horse, his eyes never breaking the penetrating gaze he cast upon her until he was seated and his sword was sheathed. Clouds of dust were kicked up by the horses as they spun around and rode away from the city in defeat. They had come here to slaughter them and destroy the coven. Instead they had failed and suffered great losses. Jozefa knew this would not be the last battle they would have to fight. The life of the blade was the only thing she seemed to know, and only when their sharp edges were decorated in blood did she feel confident.

“Take this one back, I’ll deal with the rest later.” Her mother stepped forward with staff in hand, towering over her, as she looked to the limp figure of the Cathay warrior, still laying on the muddy ground. Her voice lacked none of the intimidation it always carried.

“Yes, my queen.” Jozefa felt her own demeanor shift, as it always did, when she was in close proximity to her. Anxiety welled up inside of her, and the closer she was to her, the more it manifested itself. Fortunately, her mother had no desire to stand by and hover over her, carefully inspecting everything she did and finding fault in even the most miniscule things. She turned sharply and left Jozefa to her task of hauling this woman off to the dungeons.

The woman was heavier than it would appear and so she enlisted the help of a nearby coven member to help carry her to the depths below the city. Over time, Jozefa grew more repulsed every time she had to go down there. It’s caverns were constantly filled with agonizing screams and cries of sorrow. The stench of sulfur drifted up from the lava pits deep below, mixing with the smell of blood and sweat from the tortured souls unlucky enough to have crossed paths with the red queen. No one who left that place, left the same. Either they were forced into conversion, forced into becoming enslaved by the magic of the red queen to serve as her pawns, or they left dead. On occasion, if there was a particularly resistant individual, they never left at all.

Just as she tightened the shackles around her wrist, the Cathay woman began to stir. Jozefa could feel her muscles flexing beneath her as she struggled against her grip. Their eyes met briefly and Jozefa could feel her stern gaze upon her, even when she quickly looked away. She couldn’t look at this hardened warrior, knowing what her fate would soon be. Her mother needed answers with regards to the whereabouts of a book sacred to witch hunters. It’s contents were meant to guide those who wished to kill anyone who had an affinity for magic. Aside from that, they had been attacked, something the red queen tolerated even less than someone not giving her what she wanted. 

Jozefa could hear her measured breaths, calm yet intense. Everything about the warrior radiated strength. Whereas most people who found themselves shackled in these chains reacted by yelling, struggling, or even crying, this woman did not. She simply stood there, glaring at her and clenching her jaw.

“That will be enough, Jozefa.” Her mother’s voice echoed against the cold, damp walls as she entered the chamber. “No need to stand about gawking at her. I’m sure you can find something to do which is much more useful.”

“Yes, my queen.” Jozefa hated to hear the words fall from her lips. She had hardly cast a glance in the woman’s direction and yet her mother found a way to get under her skin with that comment. After leaving the chamber, Jozefa paused. She knew every shadow cast in this forsaken place, and all of the best places to hide and listen. Usually she didn’t want to hear it, but this seemed different.

As she slid into place, concealed in the shadows, her mother’s voice boomed through the cavern. Despite her many years of training, it still made her jump. She fought to keep a nervous twitch in her eyebrow away, as she took a few deep breaths to steady her racing heart. 

“Darian of Cathay,” Red Queen Indrani said, slowly walking a half circle around the captured soldier, looking her over a few times. “Councilwoman, Captain in the army, one of the reasons my coven cannot get over the three mountain passes that separate Cathay from the rest of the kingdom. Such a proud soldier, are you not?” 

“Go to hell,” Darian growled. 

The sheer ferocity in her voice made Jozefa carefully peek over her shoulder, careful not to reveal herself from behind the rock ridge. Her mother would be livid that she spied on her, and that anger had grave consequences. Darian, as the woman appeared to be called, snarled at the red queen. It made Jozefa’s breath hitch in her throat. Not many had the courage to do so, and they always paid a price. The thought of the woman paying said price saddened Jozefa a little, though she couldn't fully explain why. Perhaps it was because not many could match her in combat. 

As Darian rattled the chains in which she was bound, Jozefa quickly hid again, shrinking into herself behind the rocky ledge. She had seen the strong muscles in the woman’s shoulders and neck flex. Her mother remained impassive as ever, sighing dramatically when the soldier had finished her useless attempt at escaping. 

“I hope you’re ready to see your kingdom bleed,” she sneered, glancing up and down Darian’s body. Though she undeniably felt the pain of the spell that had struck her down and was covered with blood and grime from the battle, her spirit remained unbroken. 

She even had the strength to lift her chin proudly as she stated: “It’s not my kingdom. I don’t serve the king. The old one nor the new, as Cathay’s city council has always been largely independent of Draeganoth’s rule.” 

The queen chuckled, a sound that raised the hairs on the back of Jozefa’s neck. She dared to peek again, seeing that her mother was casting a look out over the lava. “That does not matter. Your outpost, as well as you, will serve me.” 

“All of Cathay will die before submitting to you, witch.” Darian near spat the words, her facial tattoo all the more dark in the soft red glow of the ever-changing lava mass. 

With a thoughtful hum, Indrani turned to one of the caverns that led out of the chamber. The torches on the walls cast sinister shadows over her face, her angular nose standing out. “Then that is an excellent option too.” 

Jozefa flinched as her mother suddenly seemed to cast a glare in her direction. Her breath sped up and she stood as still as she could, hoping above all else that no tip of her cape or boots was visible from the other side of the rocky outcrop. It didn’t seem to be the case, as she soon turned and left. Jozefa knew where that tunnel led to. Holding cells, most of which were empty, then a chamber full of torture contraptions, where screams echoed from. It was where Darian would be taken after the queen was done toying with her. Rarely did she get her hands dirty herself, instead letting the lesser coven members do the hard work. Jozefa too, had been instructed to wrench confessions out of prisoners more than once. 

Now, her mother was retrieving her staff, a tool of power meant to hurt, to cripple, and to kill. Jozefa shivered as she remembered all too well what it was capable of. It was a fate she did not like to see be inflicted, or hear the terrible screams and smell the stench of burned flesh as she walked through the caverns. She had learned to hide her disgust well, given that the queen had more than once threatened her with the very same fate. Yet the more she looked at the archer from Cathay, the more she was convinced that even on her dying breath, the woman would have that steely glare on her face, and no scream would spill over her lips.

Jozefa emerged from the shadows, finding herself nearly face to face with the warrior, hardly recalling the steps she had taken to get there.

"Are you here to threaten me as well? Or to get me to submit?" Darian stated through clenched teeth.

Her armour was scorched across her chest, where her spell had struck the woman earlier. Jozefa reached up and touched along the darkened leather momentarily, then retracted her hand as she still felt the familiar pulse of her own magic as it radiated from the armour.

"I'm here for neither of those reasons," she said as she looked away. 

"Then what could you possibly want from me?" Darian uttered, almost impatiently.

"The witch hunter and the book he stole from us, that's all she wants. Just tell her where he is and-" Jozefa was interrupted as Darian nearly spat out her rebuttal. 

"And she will, **_what_ **, let me go? Everyone knows the red queen doesn't set her prisoners free, even when you comply." Darian leaned in closer, causing Jozefa to step back. "I'll rot in here until I die." 

Those words struck Jozefa, and she found herself turning away from the shackled woman, allowing her hood to fall down over her eyes the moment she felt her cheeks warm from anger. Her heart was racing as she knew what she spoke was the truth.

"You're right. Once she gets what she wants, she'll kill you. No amount of pretty words will save you," Jozefa agreed, as she glanced over her shoulder at the hardened warrior. 

"I don't know anything about the witch hunter or the book, we joined the battle as it was the honorable thing to do. Aside from that, if she wanted to kill me, she would have done so by now." Darian shifted once again, the chains of her shackles clanking softly against each other. She winced at the movement, residual effects from her spell apparently still lingered in her body. 

"Then she'll trade you for it, you must carry rank with your people." Jozefa's eyes moved towards the tattoos which adorned her face. "You are highly decorated, after all. Your life _must_ be valuable to them."

"Even if my people were knowledgeable about this book you so desperately seek, they would not trade one life for many." Darian's voice echoed against the walls as she snapped at her. Then, her voice calmed. "I don't think you would, either. If you had a choice." 

Jozefa turned sharply on her heel, her eyes trained upon the cave wall. Behind her, she heard Darian shifting in her shackles once again, before the sound of her own heartbeat drowned everything else out. “You will not have a choice,” she said in a low whisper, desperately trying to make her voice sound as intimidating as her mother’s. Unfortunately, it still resembled nothing more than a raspy squeak, in comparison to the red queen’s threatening tone. 

The Cathayan warrior only lifted a single dark eyebrow. “But you do.” 

~~~

The red queen’s daughter, Jozefa, was exceptionally well suited to the shadows in which she effortlessly resided, Darian observed. Though even as she hung in the chains, kneeling, the joints of her shoulders stretched backwards unpleasantly, she saw the anxiety that radiated from the other woman. Especially when Jozefa took a knee next to her, making her smaller by at least half a foot. She was used to kneeling, that much was obvious. Her eyes were a shockingly bright shade of blue in the shadow of her large hood, and Darian saw her pulse beat rapidly in her throat. 

She had seen the woman flinch and cower as the red queen talked to her, or barked at her, would be a more accurate description. Perhaps this could be her only chance at escaping her predicament. She nearly wanted to repeat her statement, but the shaky exhales and the twitching of the smaller woman’s mouth told her she had already achieved her goal. 

“I do my queen’s bidding.” The answer was no more than a whisper, as Jozefa was evidently trying to shrink further into her cape. 

A harsh chuckle fell from Darian’s lips. “Evidently,” she mumbled, taking a deep, measured breath. “Otherwise…-” 

“Otherwise what?” Jozefa snapped, her eyes suddenly meeting Darian’s dark ones in fury. 

The Cathayan warrior closed her eyes for a moment, focusing her strength. Then she tensed her arms, feeling the underside of the shackles bite into her flesh as she hoisted herself up. Her shoulders ached in protest, but she gritted her teeth and stood, stepping forward once, as far as the chains allowed her to do so. 

With a shriek, Jozefa fell backwards, landing on the hard stone so hard it almost made Darian wince in sympathy. She scrambled up quickly, pointing one of her daggers, the one covered with mud, at the soldier. Yet her hand shook severely. 

“Otherwise you wouldn’t do _that_ ,” Darian said, nodding with her head and taking a step backwards. The chains weren’t stretching her arms so uncomfortably anymore and despite the pain standing up had caused, she was far more confident now. She even thought that she was the one in her element at that moment, and Jozefa, despite her training under the queen, was clearly not. “You have the choice here. I saw you cower for her. Will you obey someone who values you so little? Or do you have good in you, buried deep in that black soul of yours?”

It was almost comical how Jozefa’s eyes widened, if it wasn’t so sad. She turned away from Darian again, thinking to be able to hide the conflict that rapidly spread over her face in the shadows. But Darian saw her tense shoulders, and hands that clenched into fists as shaky breaths left her lungs. 

Magic flashed purple in Jozefa’s right hand. Darian sucked in a breath through her teeth. She had made a dangerous gamble, and overestimated just how much she could sway Jozefa and show her what the better choice would be. She wished that she was able to see the look on Jozefa’s face, not just her back, which was covered by the red cape. Yet she couldn’t do so.

Darian closed her eyes and waited for the spell to hit. 

Instead of another bolt to the chest, and a final one this time, the shackles around her wrists suddenly burst open with a metallic shriek. It echoed in the caverns around them, and Jozefa instantly shot a look at the tunnel where her mother had disappeared into. Darian fell to her hands and knees as sharp, tingling pains traveled up and down her arms as the blood flow to her hands recovered from formerly being cut off by the shackles. 

“Get up.” Jozefa snapped, as footsteps sounded in the tunnel out of the cavern. “Get up and get out of here!”

Her senses heightened, as they always did once she was in severe danger. Her feet did as they were commanded to do, yet her honour lagged behind. This woman had just freed her from what was certain to be an elongated death, and now they were bound together by the Cathay tradition of a life contract. A debt that could only be repaid once she had saved Jozefa’s life in turn. Darian swore under her breath at the thought of it, but continued to run as the red queen’s footsteps drew closer.

Jozefa felt the fear as well and wanted nothing more than to fly away from the heavy steps she could recognize in her sleep. She had just committed an act of treason against her mother by releasing the warrior, and now she only felt the magic of her spell as she began to shift into her raven form and leave this world, as she knew it, behind.

“Where do you think _you_ are going?” The layered voice of the red queen rang throughout the caverns. She gripped her staff tightly, enough until her knuckles turned white, then cast a spell.

Threads of greenish strands of magic poured from the tip of her mother’s staff, wrapping around her ankles and pulling taught against her struggles. The sensation burned, and she felt her face collide with the ground as her mother pulled the spell back, forcing her to fall as she dragged her closer. Her palms scraped over the rough stone floor as she made a futile attempt to resist. 

“What did you do, daughter? You let her go?” The venom dripped from the red queen’s lips as she spoke those words. “You betrayed me,” she said as she reached down and grabbed Jozefa by her cloak, tugging her to her feet as she pulled her close enough to see the fine creases in her scowl. Her physical strength was almost as strong as her magical strength.

A startled gasp escaped her and Jozefa felt as if she could hardly move. She **_had_ **betrayed her mother by releasing a prisoner she had hardly even known, and yet, she wasn’t ashamed of what she had done. She was only ashamed that she had gotten caught up in her mother’s spell before she had a chance to flee. ‘I - I…” Her breath was cut off when her mother twisted the cloak in her hand. Jozefa couldn’t even finish her sentence as the coven’s matriarch descended upon her.

‘You let her go,” her mother reiterated as she waved her staff towards the broken shackles on the ground. They came together once again, rising from the ground rather quickly with magic. Before Jozefa could react, they wrapped around her wrists, securing themselves with an ominous clinking sound. The queen’s daughter stumbled backwards, halted when her mother grasped the fabric of her cape, which wrapped around her neck and shoulders and pulled her in once again. 

Jozefa cursed at herself. _Why had she let the woman from Cathay go?_ She could hardly move as her mother pulled her even closer, uttering an incantation which she felt penetrate through the metal of her bindings. It pulsed through her veins and she knew right away that her mother had cast a dampening spell on the shackles, grounding her. She could no longer shift into her raven form and fly off into the night, for her wings had been clipped.

The red queen twisted her fingers around the cloth of her cape, which she hadn’t let go of. "You have shown me where your allegiance lies. Now her fate will be yours, _daughter_."

With that, she jerked the fabric up and pressed her other hand against her sternum, having abandoned her staff long ago. This wound would be personal, and Jozefa could ascertain that just by the way it felt as the red queen poured her magic into the palm of her hand and cast.

Jozefa shrieked when it burned through the fabric of her tunic and pulled back, though it was futile as her mother only pulled her back in as she continued the spell. The smell of burnt fabric and hair permeated the air around her, threatening to choke her. 

Her vision filled with sparks of white as she felt the skin of her chest melt beneath the touch. It spread through her veins and she felt her arms tremble as she cried out in agony, for the pain was excruciating. Jozefa began to wonder if she had made the correct decision as her knees gave out and she slumped against the chains. Pain pulsed in the wound like a heartbeat, sending shockwaves of hurt through her body. 

“Let us hope that your brother isn’t quite as much of a disappointment as you are,” her mother purred as she slowly stroked a clawed hand against her cheek. She had left scratches before, when trailing her fingertips with the clawed metal decorations on them over Jozefa’s face in a mocking caress. But now she pressed deeper than ever before. 

Jozefa felt her skin split open and felt the warmth of the blood as it trailed down her face. A deep scratch was drawn over her cheekbone, downwards from the corner of her eye then over the soft flesh of her cheek. She gritted her teeth, but couldn’t stop a muffled groan from spilling over her lips. Her head spun, so much so that she almost completely missed her mother’s words. ‘ _A brother?’_ she briefly thought, before the red queen pressed her hand into the blistering burn on her chest. 

Another scream of agony echoed through the cavern as Jozefa felt her legs give out completely. She hung helpless in the chains, as black spots slowly blotted out her vision.

_(art by Greypaws)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darian realises what she has done, Jozefa suffers the consequences of her actions. 
> 
> WARNING for a form of torture, mental as well as physical, leaning more to the mental side.

Jozefa’s screams echoed through the cavern as Darian ran. She stopped and looked behind her, but the cavern was dark and she could hear the footfalls of more than a few coven members swiftly catching up with her. 

Reaching for her right boot, she pulled a hidden weapon out from between the laces on the front. The cool steel of her kunai knife, with its elongated, triangular blade and the metal loop on the end of the handle, was comforting to the touch. A cloud of red smoke sped past her, solidifying into a masked coven member who blocked the opening of the cavern. Despite the lingering pain in all four of her limbs, Darian wasted no time in sprinting up to the figure and thrusting the kunai deep into their chest. 

When she wrenched it free, since it was her last resort weapon and she did not want to lose it, she heard a second scream. High and shrill, the voice breaking in agony. Again, she thought about turning around, but the red queen was sure to have returned to the cavern. Going back in there was suicide, and she could not save Jozefa’s life to repay her debt if she died before freeing the woman. 

Cursing at herself for being captured in the first place, Darian sprinted towards the light. 

~~~

Jozefa’s lips were dry and cracked, her mind foggy from a lack of water. Still, she turned away once the black-gloved hands of a coven member held a bowl in front of her. After having averted her head to the side for a few minutes, she breathed out a sigh of relief when the witch went away again. Her burn throbbed, a pulse different than her heartbeat, slowly radiating through her body. Every breath she took made the pain spike, and she was fairly certain that the wound was infecting. Though she tried to avoid looking down, as lava ominously bubbled in the lake below where the red queen had re-installed the chains, she could see the red, blistering skin and the inflamed flesh of her wound every time she let her head droop. 

Sweat pearled on her forehead, likely either from exhaustion or from the heat of the lava below her. Jozefa whimpered as she sagged in the chains a little, her legs too tired to lift up her weight a little, so the shackles didn’t bite into her wrists. The skin there was raw from the metal rubbing against it. 

“Such weakness you show,” the red queen’s voice suddenly rang through the cavern. It made Jozefa jolt, and she couldn’t pinpoint her mother’s exact location for a few moments. Then she realized that Indrani was standing on a ledge behind her, slightly above where she was chained. 

When Jozefa wanted to speak, it felt as if her tongue had turned to lead. Her mind raced on, however, frantically flitting from one thought to another as she attempted to figure out the words that could move her mother to release her from the chains. But she had  _ betrayed her.  _ And not only her mother, no, she had betrayed the leader of the witches’ covenant and that fear threatened to consume her, drive her into a panic to the point of not being able to think. 

“F-forgive me-” she mumbled, trying to regain the ability to speak, before the panic rendered her mute. 

Yet the queen cut in immediately. “Not until you have proven your worth. You betrayed the coven, Jozefa. You betrayed us all. We will not tolerate this.” 

It wasn’t true, Jozefa knew. If her mother didn’t want to reveal it, the rest of the coven would never know. Besides, hadn’t Darian said that she knew nothing about the book, regardless? Her mind was so tired and worked up into such a panic that she could barely even remember what had precisely happened. The details were escaping her rapidly as she scoured her every thought for what to say.  _ Anything _ that could get her back in her mother’s good graces, as far as she had ever held that position. 

Her panicked thoughts were harshly interrupted when she suddenly felt magic curl around the chains that held her arms. The links of metal gave way with a clank, dropping her a foot lower until they came to a standstill with a harsh shock, jarring her injured body. The heat of the lava felt scorching hot on her burned skin and the wound on her face. “Mother! Please, no!” she cried out, fearing for her life, since the molten rock was much closer than it had been before. 

Instead of dropping Jozefa the final distance into the lava pool, the red queen attached the chains to the rock wall again, a few links lower than before. Then she simply walked away, her footsteps fading down the caverns as Jozefa heard her own wheezing breaths surge in her ears. Light-headedness took her over as she frantically tried, and failed, to calm herself. 

Darkness took her again, even though she hadn’t felt herself passing out. She only noticed it when she was jarred awake, again being presented with a bowl of water. This time, she gave in and drank. The coolness was refreshing, but only for a meagre few seconds. 

Her thoughts were still scattered and the anxious feeling which lived within her always, even while she slept, began to bubble up again with even more ferocity now that the water had provided her with just the slightest bit of nourishment. How long could her body last under these conditions? She asked herself, as she felt a droplet of sweat drip from the bridge of her nose, vaporizing before it ever came close to the surface of the lava. Her mother was well aware of the limits she could push a human body to without going past the point of no return, for she had seen it done time and time again.

The thought was of little comfort to her as coils of heat brushed against her cheeks like a mocking caress. In her state of delirium, Jozefa pondered whether the heat from the molten pit below her was more comforting than her mother’s embrace, until the realization struck her that she had never known what that was like. Therefore, the comparison could not be made.

She thought to know what it was she had done to make her mother hate her over the course of her life. Everything she had ever done was for the betterment of the coven, and for  _ her _ . How hard she had trained and fought in order to do her bidding without question.

Inhaling sharply caused the blistered skin to rupture and it began to weep a clear fluid which carried a stench. Throbbing pain accompanied it, but was quickly forgotten once something flashed in the corner of her eye and Indrani was suddenly standing next to her, just a few feet away. She staggered to the side, in an effort to stand upright on legs which could hardly support her weight. She wanted to cry out to her mother for mercy, to plead for her forgiveness and be released from these shackles. Her skin prickled with the sensation it always felt anytime she used her magic to shift into raven form and fly away. She felt a jolt from the magic bound to the manacles wrack her body, in order to prevent that from happening. Even though her arms and wrists had become numb from being held in the position they were in for so long, she still felt the pain in them.

“Such an anxious thing you are.” Indrani said it as casually as if it were just another day and they were sharing a meal together. “Have I not given you everything? Yet you still act like this, and you betray me. Do you care about our survival at all? Our secrets are out there now, this is no time to be merciful.”

Every word the red queen said sounded so hypnotic, as they always did. Jozefa tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. The words sat in the back of her throat even though she could hear herself screaming them inside of her mind.  _ Please, release me, I’m sorry. _

Jozefa would not dare beg, for she knew that was the wrong thing to do and would only enrage the woman even more. So she remained still and silent, her gaze affixed to a dark spot in the lava which twisted and roiled under whatever forces kept this pit active, churning until it broke apart and disappeared.

As if to back up her words with action, the red queen waved her hands and the chains against the wall lowered her even closer. She fought back a cry and shifted her feet on the ledge below them to gain better footing. Any further and she would surely perish.

Jozefa heard her steps as they faded and she exited the lava pits, stopping only to bark one last order to the coven guards standing watch over her.

“Give her more water, make sure she drinks all of it.”

It wasn’t even an order directed at her, yet she found herself obeying it nonetheless, drinking from the bowl until there was nothing left. She drifted off again, trying to remain cognizant enough of the fact that one wrong move could send her slipping off the ledge and into the lava. Her thoughts wandered to all of the places she had ever been, trying to imagine that she was anywhere but here. Images of her mother’s face drifted between those thoughts, she shook them from her head, not wanting to see her likeness in her mind, yet knowing she was the only one who could set her free.

How much time had passed after that was uncertain, as she again found herself being presented with more water to drink. This time she noted the sharp metal covering of a claw- shaped thumb piece as it curled around the lip of the bowl, dipping into the water just slightly. She drank the water Indrani offered and waited for the taunts which were sure to follow, surprised when she simply handed the now emptied bowl to a coven guard and waved him off.

“I am ready to serve the coven, again.” Jozefa’s willpower had broken and the words spilled from her lips.

“I see all, Jozefa. There is nothing which remains hidden from me.” Indrani’s voice nearly shook the walls as it boomed in her ear. “There isn’t a person outside of these walls who wouldn’t burn a witch. What is it we have always said, about the coven, about  **_this_ ** ?” She accentuated with a gesturing motion.

“We do not stray,” Jozefa said with as much strength as she could summon.

“We  _ do not  _ stray,” her mother repeated back to her as she gripped her cloak and released the shackles, pulling her further onto the ledge to ensure that she didn’t fall into the pit. Jozefa sunk to the floor after she let go of her cloak, propping herself up on shaky arms.

The red queen paced a few steps, and Jozefa knew she had more to say. Her tone was less intense, but her words still carried plenty of weight behind them. “If it were anyone else who had betrayed me like this, I would have had them locked up until they died. But because the bond between mother and daughter is sacred, I will allow you a second chance. Do not make me regret this decision.”

“Yes, mother.” Jozefa met the red queen’s gaze briefly, then looked away.

“Now, get yourself fed and cleaned up. We have work to do,” Indrani stated coldly as she turned and walked away, brushing the coven guards out of the way as she did so.

~~~

Fed and cleaned up, her mother had said. Fed had meant scarfing down some bread, then immediately feeling sick afterwards and nearly fainting as she made her way to the bathroom in her chambers. Jozefa had sat on the floor, on her hands and knees, for a few minutes until everything had stopped spinning. Then she had clumsily bathed, taking great care to avoid aggravating her wounds. The cut on her face wasn’t as deep as she had initially thought, though the skin around it was still raw, an angry red line that ran halfway down her right cheek. 

Yet it was the wound on her chest that concerned her gravely. Her heartbeat pulsed in the burn, every beat bringing on a slow wave of pain. As Jozefa held her hand just above the injury, she felt the heat that radiated from the inflamed flesh and smelled the telltale stench of infection. Healing it by using the life force of another would be the best option, she surmised, since the wound was crippling her already. But something within her brain told her no. Jozefa bit her lip when she felt it, and admonished herself for allowing the words of the woman from Cathay to influence her so much. There was no time to seek out a random peasant to steal life from anyways, since her mother would soon summon her for battle again. The confrontation with the king was coming, this time in the capital city, and Jozefa knew that she could not disappoint the red queen again, for that would be her final time. 

She applied a cooling salve to the burn, knowing very well that it would do nothing but grant her a temporary relief. Then she dressed herself in a clean red tunic and a new set of leather armour, attached her dagger sheaths to her belt and reached for her cape. The front of the cowl was singed around the edges, where the fire spell had burned the fibers. Some blood stained a few spots on the cape, but she put it on regardless, even if only so she could hide her face in the large hood and prevent anyone from seeing the pain she was in. 

~~~

Her landing was anything but graceful, as she stumbled when transforming back to her human body. Indrani lifted an eyebrow, ever impatient, waiting for Jozefa’s report. 

“The archers are readied on the wall. They will see us coming no matter how we approach,” Jozefa said, keeping her voice plain and even. 

The castle and the capital city itself were built on the slope of a mountain, giving the ruling king and queen an excellent view of their kingdom. “When I flew over the ramparts of the city gates, I heard Dari- the woman from Cathay suggest to give the witch hunter and the book to us, so we wouldn’t attack. But the king believes that it wouldn’t matter.” 

“It wouldn’t, indeed. Perhaps the city would be spared some destruction,” the red queen said with a shrug, before turning to the coven members. “Enter your spectral forms and gather in front of the gates! I will personally open them.” 

She accented the last sentence with a beat of her staff on the ground. Jozefa was certain that her mother didn’t miss the way she flinched at the movement, and at the green glow within the crystal on top of the weapon. 

Once they had descended upon the city, and the gates had been blasted open with ease, they were met with peasants holding pitchforks and other such tools. Jozefa very nearly barked out a laugh at the pathetic sight. Was this how king Malachi hoped to stop them? That laugh quickly faded from her tongue when a wave of sickness made itself known in her body. Warmth pounded in her head as the burn on her chest ached and throbbed. The ground in front of her became blurry for a few seconds and Jozefa felt herself sway. Any one of the measly farmers on the city’s rooftops could be used to heal the infected wound, but something in her mind was still telling her not to do it. 

“Deliver me the witch hunter and that book!” 

Her mother’s voice was grating in Jozefa’s ears, like the screech of metal on metal. A sharp headache began to make itself known in her temples as Jozefa listened to the red queen. She averted her eyes to the ground and struggled to control the nervous twitches in her mouth and eyebrows.

“Why would I do that, witch?” King Malachi peered down at them from the top of the wall, surrounded by the few armed soldiers he had.

“You know we have more power than you. All I want is the witch hunter and that book. Give it to me, and I may show mercy upon your people.” The red queen gripped a hand tighter around her staff as she called out her demands.

Jozefa made certain her eyes were shielded by her hood, casting a glare at her mother upon hearing the word.  _ Mercy _ . Her mother knew not what being merciful meant, for she had never displayed an ounce of it for as long as she could recall. Her promise of such to these people was shallow, and Jozefa knew that those who did not perish would be taken as prisoners and forcibly converted to coven members, eventually. Not before undergoing a great deal of pain and suffering first.

As lightheaded as she was becoming, Jozefa managed to remain standing upright and unwavering, even lifting her head to glance at the king as he proudly persisted, defiant in the face of what was sure to be a slaughter the moment Indrani had the book in her hands and the witch hunter in chains. Momentarily, she regretted not taking the life force of some unsuspecting victim in order to heal herself as the feeling of fire spread through her veins once again.

Jozefa kept her eyes affixed on the king’s form as he continued to argue with the red queen, reinforcing the fact that he was not interested in surrendering nor would he submit without a fight. A slight movement with his fingers captured her attention, years of training had taught her that it was a covert signal, given to someone nearby. Cautiously, she scanned the wall for movement, nearly gasping when she saw Darian moving quietly along the wall. Her speed and agility was impressive as she scaled a portion of the wall and moved to a higher vantage point, ducking behind the heavy brick and remaining out of sight.

It was a two part signal, as the three archers which traveled with Darian from Cathay, emerged from behind another part of the wall near the king. They drew back their arrows and held the position, ready to release on command.

“Something is happening,” Indrani uttered as she narrowed her eyes and cast a sidelong glance at her daughter.

“Fire!” King Malachi yelled as he pointed his sword towards them.

Jozefa felt the adrenaline flood her body, as it always did upon the call of a fight and she felt her sickness vanish. Withdrawing her daggers, she trained her eyes where Darian had hidden behind the wall, poised to deflect the incoming arrow which was sure to come her way. The Cathay warrior had two arrows drawn back in her bow made of the spine of some large animal. Jozefa felt calm as she watched her release the arrows, firing them in her direction. Instead of dodging them, she stood still and watched as they flew past her and sunk deep into the necks of two coven members standing near the red queen. Their bodies dropped to the ground instantly.

“How could you let this happen?” the red queen demanded to know as she glared at her through clenched teeth.

“Fire!” the king repeated, this time a volley of arrows began to fall from the sky. Acting purely on impulse, Jozefa rushed forward, deflecting several of the arrows which threatened to strike her mother down.

“Get them!” Indrani shouted. Next to her, several other coven members shifted into their mist form and obeyed the will of their queen, billowing towards the warriors of Cathay. The tips of their arrows now alight with fire, a weakness clearly learned from the text of the ancient book which had been stolen from them.

Jozefa looked once again to the highest peak of the walls, waiting to catch a glimpse of the woman she knew was still in hiding, waiting for another opportunity to strike. A magical aura began to fluctuate around her mother, as Jozefa was attuned to the feeling of her quickly shifting magic. Knowing the red queen was about to cast a powerful spell, she covered her face with her hands and attempted to summon a dampening shield. Had she been in better health, it would have been a simple task, but her magic was sluggish and she was only able to protect herself partially.

Indrani slammed her staff on the ground, the crystal which sat atop it amplified the magic of the spell which she had cast, sending a powerful concussive blast in all directions. Jozefa flinched and fell to her knees, covering her face and her chest with her hands, daggers still clenched tightly in them. She let out a sharp cry as the spell traveled through, causing the skin on her chest and face to ache. It then hit the king and anyone else unfortunate enough to be caught in its radius, knocking them backwards and off of their feet.

The red queen looked down at Jozefa as she struggled to her feet, shaking her head in order to clear the ringing from her ears. An evil grin spread across her lips as she began to break down into mist form, ensuring her words were clearly spoken before propelling herself towards Darian’s location. “You didn’t think I would forget about her, did you?”

Masterful as Darian was with her blades and her arrows, she would be no match at all for the red queen. Jozefa cursed as she saw her mother’s form solidify on the city walls, and immediately after, she felt her heart seize when she spotted the Cathay warrior jumping from the wall to the walkway on top of it. She had dodged the blast of the spell with her lightning reflexes, but was now facing away from the red queen. 

Jozefa felt her magic stutter as she tried to transform. It took an unusually long time before she felt her body shift and change shape, able to fly upwards. She felt a flash of pain in her chest as she took flight, but ignored it as soon as she saw Darian charge at her mother. Her blades flashed silver through the air, whistling with every slash. But the red queen was unimpressed, raising a hand, collecting her energy in the palm. 

The scent of frost carried on the air towards Jozefa, who flew as fast as she could. It was crisp and cold, stinging in her nose. She knew that spell, and she knew she likely wouldn’t be fast enough to save the woman again. In fact, she barely knew why she was trying to save her at all. 

Her collision with Darian’s side was by far the most ungraceful thing she had ever done. Jozefa transformed in mid-air, slamming her weight into the taller woman, knocking her to the side as they crashed into the muddy walkway on top of the wall together. She felt the sharp cold of the spell shear over her, just barely missing her legs. Darian uttered a muffled cry as Jozefa scrambled to her feet. Ice formed and shattered around her right foot, far quicker than Jozefa had anticipated. The flesh froze, then broke apart into white shards. Blood quickly began to pour from the severed ankle. 

However much Jozefa wanted to rip a piece out of her cape to staunch the blood flow, she couldn’t. With a vicious snarl, her mother raised her staff and fired spell after spell at her, each one meant to kill. Jozefa did the only thing her years of training allowed her body. She jumped off the wall, transforming into her raven shape. 

Green lightning flashed above her as she shifted forms, a foot above the dry earth of the courtyard. The shock of the rough impact sent sickness coursing through Jozefa’s body, pulsing outwards from the infected wound on her chest. All of the adrenaline left her, leaving her cold and shaking from exhaustion. 

“I knew you would betray me again, daughter,” Indrani sneered. Her staff glowed green. Energy collected in the crystal atop it, as sparks traveled up and down the wood. “And for what? A woman you don’t even know. You’re as worthless as the rest of them.” 

Jozefa stood paralysed as she watched the magic crackle in the staff. She was too scared to even breathe, let alone think of moving an inch. Only one thought flashed through her mind. 

_ Why did I save her?  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darian makes an effort to repay her life debts, Jozefa fights her mother, a brother and a sister are reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (braz):  
> I gotta hand it to Greypaws, she made the stupid plot twist reveal scene in the movie into an epic scene! And very sad, that too. I mean I feel bad for the *red queen* of all people, with that expanded backstory Greypaws wrote...

With the dagger on her belt, Darian cut a broad strip from the underside of her dark red cloak. The jade handle felt cool and soothing against her hand, despite the fact that her deep breaths were what kept her arms from shaking. The spell had only grazed her foot, yet it had frozen and shattered all the same. She could barely imagine what it would have done if it had hit her head on… what it would have done if Jozefa hadn’t shoved her aside. 

She wrapped the fabric tightly around her lower shin as a makeshift tourniquet, watching as the blood flow slowed. Her vision was fuzzy around the edges and her movements were sluggish as she reached for one of her blades. Then a hand covered hers, carefully taking the handle from her. A familiar face hovered into her field of vision, tapping her cheek to ensure she was conscious. “You’ll injure yourself if you try to sheathe your blade, Captain,” Kiriko said. The butterfly tattoo that graced her forehead was crinkled ever so slightly in her concerned frown. 

Darian let the slightly taller woman pull her to her feet. Or foot, to be more accurate. She gritted her teeth against the pain and began to limp down the muddy stairs of the city wall, one arm slung over her soldier’s shoulder all the while. “Akari and Batyr, where are they? Are they wounded?” she asked. 

“We were all knocked out by that witch’s blast, but they’re alright. Slightly concussed, perhaps, but not injured.” At the bottom of the winding staircase, a few paces away from the city’s gate, Kiriko guided Darian to sit down. The descent had been exhausting, much more so than scaling the wall in the beginning of the fight. “They said they would get the horses… and asked me to see if you were still alive. And willing to leave this idiotic king to his fate.” 

With a sigh, Darian rested her head against the filthy wall, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt the pain in her severed foot slowly began to worsen, as the adrenaline of the battle left her body. “And lose my honour in abandoning them? You know my code,  _ our _ code, doesn’t allow that.” 

“You only allied with the king to avoid being decapitated. They thought us to be bandits, Darian. We’re worth more than that.” 

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Darian said wearily, eyeing the corpses of both members of the coven and soldiers of the king alike that littered the area by the gates. “The red queen’s daughter saved my life. Twice now, in fact. You know what that entails.” 

Kiriko stared at her with her mouth wide open for a few moments, then barked out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re an idiot,” she huffed. “Noblest warrior in Cathay, best swordswoman, but also the stupidest person in the entire city. A life debt with a witch is one thing, but  _ two _ ?” 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” With a grunt, Darian rubbed her temples. The fact that she and Jozefa were now bound together by Cathay tradition, until she had saved the woman’s life in return to even out the debt, was bad enough. The fact that she had to do it twice now, or risk losing her honour and status by refusing, was worse than losing her foot. She looked down at the injury, which had slowed its bleeding to a drip. 

The clatter of hooves shook her out of the daze that threatened to set in. Four horses rushed into the open space in front of the gates. They were pursued by three members of the witches coven, one of which fell immediately to a flaming arrow from Akari, who swiveled in the saddle to aim. Darian grabbed one of her last remaining arrows from her quiver and nocked it, forcing her hands to stop shaking. She only partially succeeded, and her shot was off-center. It hit the second witch in the stomach instead of in the heart, but proved to be deadly all the same. The third one seemed to value their life and fled when Batyr drew his broad saber to engage them. 

“Can you ride, Captain?” Akari asked, attaching her bow to the designated leather clip on her saddle, then handing the reins of the additional horse she had led to the gates to Darian. 

With a shaky nod, Darian grabbed the horn of the saddle. “Help me up. I should be able to swing my leg over the saddle once I’ve got my foot in the stirrup.” 

“Your only foot,” Akari commented with a raised eyebrow, as she watched the other two hoist Darian up. It earned her a glare from her leader. She rolled her eyes and continued: “Where to?” 

Darian paused at the question. Cathay was seven days riding with a swift horse. They had an outpost to the south of the capital city, a small city that was mostly used for shipping goods over the river that ran through it. That same river eventually cut through the mountains surrounding Cathay, being one of the two true roads into the city. Darian thought for a few moments, because while Cathay was the most obvious option, her two life debts nagged in her mind. “To the trading post,” she decided, steering her horse in the direction of the gates. “It’s two days away. We can find a medic there.” 

A sudden crash of green and purple behind them made all four soldiers snap their heads towards the castle in the city. The houses shielded the witches from their view, but Darian knew precisely what was happening. She once again cursed herself for striking up life debts with the enemy, but was bound to the code of Cathay as all inhabitants of the city were. 

As she rode out of the gates with her warriors, she cast one last look over her shoulder, knowing she’d have to return to the city soon. 

~~~

_ What had she done? _

Jozefa felt her stomach turn at the realization of her actions. Her mother would show no ‘kindness’ towards her this time. Her hands began to shake and her brow glistened with nervous sweat. This act would be the death of her. 

A flaring of magic that was not her own surged violently towards her like a bolt of lightning, snapping her from her daze and forcing her to react. Without thinking, she gathered her strength and cast a spell, halting the red queen’s fury with a beam of her own. Her mother did not relent, only pushing harder with her fiery green spell. Jozefa could feel the anger within it as their magic collided and her purple hued magic mixed with green. She pressed harder against it, tapping into an unknown reserve of powerful strength she did not know she possessed, gaining some ground against the assault as she felt her magic begin to break down the very essence of the red queen’s spellwork.

The vengeful woman’s eyes darkened as the intensity of her casting increased, but she did not back down. “I taught you too much, perhaps, but I did not teach you everything.”

An incantation Jozefa had never heard before spilled from her mother’s lips and the hair on her skin raised as the green bolts began to increase and crackle loudly, striking out at nearby objects and shattering anything fragile enough to be broken. Jozefa flinched as a box exploded, covering her eyes with her free hand as splinters of wood came at her. The red queen stepped forward, repeating the words which sounded so foreign, all the while wearing a wicked grin.

A bolt scorched it’s way through her own and she shrieked as it lifted her up effortlessly and hurled her backwards into the castle wall, her head striking the hard stone with a crack before she fell face first onto the ground. A ringing sound filled her ears and the world turned rapidly. Warmth pooled at the back of her head, running down its sides, and dripping down her neck as she slowly tried to lift herself up to feel the injury. Crimson droplets sprinkled the ground and she fell into them as her arms gave out.

The ringing subsided long enough to hear the sound of the red queen’s footsteps as she approached, each step was deliberate. “Your power is no match for mine,  _ daughter. _ ”

Jozefa wanted nothing more than to shift into her flight form and soar, but her thoughts were sluggish and her body was too heavy to move. Slowly, her vision left her and the world turned black.

~~~

Indrani scanned the courtyard below, her eyes flitted to the few remaining soldiers scattering about, desperately trying to regroup around King Malachi, who was standing once again with sword in hand.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Her laugh echoed and she began to shift into her mist form, turning to the coven guards who had joined her just before her transformation was complete. “Take her to the throne room and wait for me there. It is time to  _ seize  _ this city.” 

As she landed before him and rematerialized, she slammed her staff on the ground sharply, laughing as they braced themselves from the incoming blast, unwilling to fall once again.

“We won’t fall for your tricks again, witch,” the king huffed as he pointed his sword at her from behind five soldiers which had come to his aide. 

The red queen hummed, a slight smirk curling upon her lips as several coven members joined her. She waved a clawed hand and turned sharply, looking over her shoulder briefly before barking out a command and walking away. “Take him to the throne room as well.”

King Malachi furrowed his brow as the group of coven members simply followed her. Suddenly a vice-like grip took hold of his wrist. First one, then the other. He flexed against their grasp but the action was in vain. He looked into the eyes of the soldiers who had just stood by his side, defending him, and shuddered as he saw the red glow in their eyes. They jerked him forward, pulling the sword from his hand as they followed the red queen.

“What have you done to them?” he shouted at her as she continued a steady pace in the direction of the throne room.

“They are under my control now. They are my slaves and I’ll do what I want with them.” The red queen replied, not sparing him a glance as she answered.

Malachi dragged his feet as the mind controlled soldiers tugged him along, kicking at his heels in order to get him to comply. Draeganoth’s ruling chamber had always left something to be desired. It was dark and dusty with only a panel of windows that let the light in. The walls were adorned with shields from times long past and there was a poorly crafted statue of a warrior which had been there for as long as he could recall. The throne itself was uncomfortable to sit in, both physically and mentally. Ruling the kingdom was not something he wanted to do so soon, but his father’s recent passing had left him with no choice.

“Why are you doing this?” The king struggled as his wrists were bound behind his back, having been stripped of his chestplate. He let out a breathy grunt through clenched teeth as he was forced to the ground, a cloud of dust stirred, causing him to cough.

“Don’t embarrass yourself anymore, you are still king. For the moment.” Sitting back on her throne, the red queen gestured for two coven members to bring in Jozefa. 

Her hood had fallen off, leaving her matted blonde hair on display for all to see. Blood dripped down the back of her skull, onto her neck, staining her red cloak darker. Without the two witches roughly holding her up by the arms, she wouldn’t be able to stand. Her legs were shaking, barely seeming to be able to carry her weight. Even Malachi sucked in a breath between his teeth when he saw how she swayed dangerously when she was forced to stand beside her mother’s throne. 

“Why won’t you kill me?” he said, voice strained. “You have the kingdom.” 

“And why would I destroy the one thing I have wanted all these years?” If she had known that her son had grown into such a soft man, ready to give up in an instant, she might have come back sooner. The red queen sat up straighter in her throne and peered into his eyes. “I have waited for you, Malachi.” 

“Me?” the king stuttered. “Why me?” 

“Because-” Indrani stood from the throne, towering over the bound man. “You’re my son, Malachi.” 

~~~

A laugh bubbled up from Malachi’s chest, he narrowed his eyes and turned his head, twisting his neck and body as far as the restraints would allow, in order to avoid the touch of a clawed hand as she reached for his face. Hers was the last touch he wanted to feel.

“My father told me my mother was dead.” He felt his throat tighten as he looked to Jozefa, who was hardly able to stand on her own, her next breath could easily be her last. This was his sister.

“He did. A small part of me died while giving birth to you and your sister.” She paused as she again reached for his face, forcing his head to meet her gaze. “Look.”

He fought against her, squeezing his eyes shut. “No,” he grunted as he shifted uncomfortably in his bindings, unwilling to face the truth.

“Look!” she commanded as she sunk the tips of her claws into the soft skin of his cheek, forcing him to comply.

The pain was sharp and sudden and he felt nothing but rage as she forced him to submit to her demand. He looked upon her with measured rage, clenching his jaw as he did so. Her eyes began to glow, a green colouration which seemed to be a trait characteristic of the red queen’s magic.

Soon, he found himself tumbling through memories which were not his. Try as he might, he could not free himself from her mental bond. She had forced him into this place in order to show him something. He could hardly recollect another time in the past in which he had felt so helpless.

He saw his father, sitting side by side with Indrani, on the throne. Her skin was vibrant and she had a glow to her as she rested her hands on her belly, sans claws. Her hair was blonde, falling in lush waves around her head. 

_ ‘Your father was desperate for an heir.’  _ The red queen’s voice cut through the vision and the image began to fade. He saw Indrani, surrounded by handmaidens, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead as she cried out in pain. His father paced the room, casting a worried look upon her before inquiring what was taking so long.

_ ‘When your sister was born, he was disappointed. But it didn’t trouble him for long, you arrived only minutes after your sister. Your father had his heir.’ _

Malachi observed the image of his father holding one small child proudly, while the other lay crying, alone in a bassinet. The handmaidens swarmed Indrani, her skin was pale and her hands reached out for both of her children. Eventually, she stilled and her eyes began to close. Malachi could see the struggle in them, but the delivery had not been kind, and her body was failing her.

_ ‘At night, you became ill, you were taken from us.’  _ The child his father held so close lay limp in his arms, Indrani cried out from her bed, still unable to rise. 

_ ‘I felt the magic stirring within me. I did what any mother would do if she had the power.’  _ Malachi watched as his mother filled his head with another vision, her hands around the throat of a handmaiden who had come to tend to the surviving child during the night. First she drew the life force from the woman’s body, then she breathed the power onto the child who laid still, for it was deceased. The infant had been brought back to life, kicking out its legs and crying. Soon the other child began to cry as well.

_ ‘But he was afraid of my magic, he banished me. I begged him, _ **_begged him_ ** _ , to let me take you and your sister.’ _

The vision began to fade, and Malachi found himself staring into the eyes of the red queen once again. Her voice had lost its emotion, once it spilled from her lips. “He allowed me to take my daughter, but  _ not  _ his son.”

She withdrew her talons from his cheek and he felt the warm trickle of blood run down them. He watched as she stood tall, her angular features highlighted by the shadows which decorated them. “So I cursed him, and his kingdom. I saved his son. I breathed the life back into your body, and  _ that  _ was how he repaid me. I vowed to make him regret that betrayal until his dying day. I was given a powerful gift. The same gift you and your sister were born with, the gift of dark magic. She chose to use it in order to betray me, but I know you are different, I know you are **_loyal_ ** . We could be  _ unstoppable. _ ” Indrani reached for his shoulder, but he jerked away.

“Never,” he spat out in response, taking a few measured breaths before proceeding. “You used your ‘gift’ to blight the lands. My people have suffered greatly, because of you. My  _ sister  _ has suffered greatly, because of you.”

Malachi looked over at Jozefa, only able to stand with assistance and covered in her own blood. His heart clenched at the thought of having a sister, and all his life he had felt so alone. He watched as she tried to meet his gaze yet failed. Given the state she was in, he was left to wonder if she even understood what was going on at all.

The red queen flared her nostrils and drew her hand back. “Very well then.” She clenched her hands so tightly that her own claws marred her palms.

_ It hurt. _ The thought of being abandoned by both of her children, to be _ let down _ , by both of her children. Indrani took a deep breath, then exhaled as she spoke. “Then, tell me… where is the witch hunter, and  **_where is that book!_ ** ”

Malachi laughed, for he himself did not know. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you, witch.”

Indrani’s eyes widened, and her temper flared. She marched over to Jozefa, touching along her cheek softly with the tips of her claws before grabbing her cloak and shoving her just enough to cause her to fall to her knees, holding her within her grasp. A pained cry escaped Jozefa, and Malachi felt a panic in his chest. He didn’t know her before, but he felt he knew her now. He thought back to what he had seen, and what he had known. His sister had released Darian, a stranger to her, that much he had heard. And with his own eyes, he had seen her fight to save the Cathay woman from his mother’s spell.

“I’ll trade you, her life for his,” Indrani’s voice rang out.

The red queen had abandoned sugar coating her words. She was no longer a mother pleading for her children to stand by her side. Her words were self serving and cold, devoid of compassion and filled with command.

“No,” Malachi responded. He raised his head proudly to look her into her eyes, and spoke for both himself, and his twin sister. “We would both rather die, than to serve you.”

“Take them away from me,” Indrani gritted through her teeth as she waved her hand. “I should have suspected they would both be a disappointment, they are their father’s children, after all.”

Just as they were tugged to their feet, another coven member entered, dragging along a prisoner. It was a man with dark hair and a wise look. The coven member had a crossbow slung over her shoulder. “Your majesty, we found this one hiding in the catacombs.”

Indrani approached the stranger. She could smell his secrets, he dabbled in magic, something he was desperately trying to hide. It was a skill he had used to wipe out several of her kind. She barked out a laugh. “This is the witch hunter! Leave him with me, but take the rest of this pathetic lot, and lock them in the dungeon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not watch Witchville, it has too many sweaty, shirtless men


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t even bother to chain Jozefa up, when the coven members threw the royal twins into the dungeon. No, they just threw her into a corner of the dimly lit space, causing her head to crack into the dark stone wall. She fell soundlessly, a heap of misery and blood. Malachi struggled all he could, but the battle had tired him. He could not fight the strength of four witches, as they forced him to kneel to the right of where his sister laid. Then he was tied to a wooden contraption, ropes around his arms and neck. He tugged on the ropes, trying in vain to loosen them, before he gave up. 

His eyes drifted from the small window in the wall, far out of his reach, to Jozefa’s prone form. Bitter tears stung in his throat when he scanned her body. No dust stirred near her, as she wasn’t moving. In fact, Malachi was fairly certain that she had stopped breathing when the witches had thrown her to the ground. This would be their end. Daughter and son of the king and the witch, dying together in a dungeon. As his thoughts started to drift, he voiced them. Perhaps only because he wanted to hear a voice in the empty chamber. 

“I would’ve liked to have a sister, you know? For a bit longer than I knew you. Not that it matters anymore. You’re dead, and I’ll be dead soon too.” He sighed, sagging into the chains. Jozefa’s form was a lot smaller than his, so much so that it was nearly hard to imagine that they had the very same parents. 

“But it would have been nice,” he continued, wistfully. “Someone to share secrets with, someone to look out for, and someone who looked out for me. Would you have been a supportive sister? A teasing one, perhaps? If nothing had happened, our mother hadn’t been banished and our father hadn’t died. Was she always that controlling and manipulative? Or was she different, once? Do you know how our father was? He was brave and strong, but also quick to anger… and indecisive, that too. Tolerated no opinion but his own. Did you know that, Jozefa?” 

Carefully, he said her name a few times, feeling how it sounded. A name he should have known very well, yet had only recently learned as the name of an enemy. A name that should have belonged to his sister. His  _ older  _ sister. The true heir to the throne. Malachi didn’t even care about it anymore. He’d gladly give up the throne to Jozefa, if it meant he would live. 

He tried to imagine Jozefa on the throne, closing his eyes to block out the dungeon, and her lifeless body. A smile was hard to imagine onto her face, but a little smirk was easier. She would look very small in the seat, even if she laid her arms on the armrests and stiffened her posture. It was also very difficult for Malachi to envision his sister with a crown on her head. Especially since her pale blonde hair was matted with drying blood, dark from mud and grime. 

The image of Jozefa helping him to confess his growing feelings for Jason was easier to think of. She would do it through pestering and teasing, most certainly. But it was a secret he was somehow sure she would have kept, because his father had never agreed with it. After all, it would have meant that there wouldn’t be a possible successor for the throne. And Malachi didn’t believe that queen Indrani would be especially forthcoming to such a relationship. 

“Would you allow me to be your general, Jozefa?” he asked. “With you as queen, and me leading the army. I wouldn’t dare to usurp you, my sister. I’m not like her… like our mother. Neither are you.” 

Jozefa’s face was covered in the shadows of the dungeon. The dark stripe of the injury on her face was the only visible detail of it. Malachi found himself wondering if their mother had wounded both of them with the metal claws she carried on her fingertips. A pale hand laid in the streak of light that the window cast into the dungeon. Her palm was scraped open. The wound was a few days old, since it had been washed and there was a crust covering the raw skin. Further up her body, where the light already began to fade, he thought to see a much more serious injury, where her torn cloak nor her tunic was enough to cover the skin of her neck and collar bone. It was too dark to see clearly, however. Still, Malachi wondered if that was the reason she had been in such a bad state, in the throne room. Perhaps it had been the brief fight between her and the red queen, after Jozefa had saved Darian. Maybe it had been something else entirely. 

Malachi found his thoughts interrupted when the door of the dungeon suddenly flew open. His eyes widened when he noticed just who was shoved onto the floor. “Kramer!”

No matter how badly he wanted to help the witch hunter sit up, he was powerless to help him. The door to their cell shut with a loud clank, and the man who had given them so much hope before now struggled to sit upright on his own. His hands were still tied behind his back, as they were when he was dragged into the throne room, but his condition had severely worsened. Blood trailed from his ears and both his lips and nose were battered and bruised. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his breaths came in wheezing pants. He winced as he finally managed to sit up, then slumped against the wall, casting a hopeless look towards Jozefa.

“She does not seem to have fared well.” A series of short coughs followed his statement.

“I fear it may be too late for her. I wasn’t strong enough to defeat the red queen. I never should have tried. She’s too powerful,” Malachi said sadly.

Kramer shook his head and shifted uncomfortably so he could get a better look at his king before speaking once again, ensuring his voice was nothing more than a hushed whisper. “No, we must keep the book safe. She mustn’t be allowed to continue to study the dark arts. I was able to hide the book, as you asked, somewhere safe. She tried to get a confession out of me, but I refused to tell her, as you can see.”

Malachi felt relieved upon hearing that the witch hunter had been successful in carrying out the orders he had given him just prior to the invasion, but the cost had been great. “I’ve failed you my friend, I’ve failed the kingdom.”

“Remember where you came from. Your father was a proud man. He wouldn’t give up so easily, and neither should you.”

“I come from the devil. The red queen… I am her son.” Malachi hung his head low. The ropes, which held him securely in place, cut into his skin as he tensed. “My father banished her and kept the truth from us for all of these years. It is the reason she has been slowly killing the lands. She’s cursed the kingdom, in order to get revenge for what he did.”

Suddenly, Kramer’s eyes brightened and he made an attempt to drag himself closer by the heels of his boots. “Do you know what this means?”

“That I am cursed.” Malachi looked towards Jozefa’s crumpled form, still unmoving.

“No, that you are blessed. Do you remember what the book said?” The witch hunter mouthed in a hushed whisper. Both of them paused when a shuffling of feet could be heard just outside of their prison door. The ominous presence could be felt, even though all of the metal and stone. 

Malachi nodded his head, as he knew the convoluted passage Kramer was referring to, partially. He would certainly need to go over it with the other man again, who had studied the book in much more detail than him, after having stolen it from the red queen. They waited patiently, giving enough time to allow the coven members who were lingering in the hallways to pass in order to gain clarity on his next task.

~~~

_ “You’re my son, Malachi.”  _   
  
The words echoed through Jozefa’s head. Her thoughts felt thick, like syrup. Pain throbbed in her skull, so badly that at first, she couldn’t even understand what her mother had said. This was her brother, the one she had been denied knowledge of until just a few days ago. Even then, she was kept in the dark as to whom it was.

Yet here he was, her brother. Jozefa wished she could get a better look at him, but her vision was blurry from exhaustion and blood loss. She strained to hear what her mother was saying. 

_ “Look!”  _ the red queen snarled. Her voice was as jarring as the ensuing wave of magic. Somewhere in the throne room, Malachi grunted, making Jozefa wonder if he felt the magic too. She swayed on her feet once again, until one of the coven members holding her up grabbed her by the back of her tunic, forcing her to keep standing. Despite this, she felt herself passing out, darkness swallowing her field of vision. 

_ “He allowed me to take my daughter… I saved his son… until his dying day.”  _

The throne room faded in and out of view, in tune with the pulses of sickening pain that spread from the wound on her chest. Jozefa could feel a fluid sticking to the bandage she had hastily applied around her torso. Blood, perhaps. Pus from the infection was also a likely option. 

_ “I know you are different… We could be unstoppable.”  _

Did her mother really believe that? As little as Jozefa knew her brother, she did know that he was stubborn to a fault, and she couldn’t really see him turn to Indrani’s side. The kingdom meant too much to him to destroy it further. 

_ “My sister has suffered greatly, because of you,”  _ Malachi’s voice now rang out. Jozefa felt something flare in her chest. She had never quite heard compassion as clearly as she thought to hear in his voice. More than anything, she wanted to wrench herself free, to stand with him against the red queen. But her body was failing her rapidly. She felt her chest grow oddly tight when she tried to breathe, hearing a rattle in her lungs that wasn’t supposed to be there. 

_ “Where is that book?”  _ Indrani screeched. 

It was then that Jozefa felt she didn’t even have the strength to flinch. Her senses faded once again, so she couldn’t hear Malachi’s reply. Only when she felt a strong hand grab the front of her cloak, so the fabric was pulled taut against her infected wound, did she snap to consciousness again. Then she was shoved, the ground approaching rapidly as her legs gave out. Somehow, she fell onto her knees, the cape now digging into her neck. Her head hung limply to the side, the last of her strength spent on keeping her back somewhat straight. 

_ “I’ll trade you, her life for his,” _ her mother’s voice rang out. 

Briefly, Jozefa wondered whose life she meant to trade for hers. Then the red queen let go of her cloak and she smacked with her head against the floor, passing out. 

When she came to again, she laid on the floor of a dungeon. While she was awake, she couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes. The floor on which she laid felt filthy, rough against her cheek. She was desperate to have anything else to concentrate on than the pain in her chest, on the back of her head and on her face. But her thoughts were only filled with that very same agony, leaving her powerless. Distraction was impossible, since she couldn’t even move a muscle. Then a voice cut through her delirious mind, fading in and out of her ears. 

_ “I would’ve liked to have a sister, you know?”  _

It was Malachi. Apparently they had been shoved into the same dungeon. A last, ironic gesture from their mother, perhaps? For a moment, Jozefa doubted that it was real. She thought it was just a vision, made up by her dying mind, in order to provide her with a bit of comfort before it all ended. 

_ “... you’re dead, and I’ll be dead soon too.”  _

It was not a figment of her imagination, then? Her brother really thought her dead. No matter how much Jozefa wanted to jump to her feet and prove that she was still alive, her body failed to give any kind of response. She was truly trapped within her own mind, the only part of her that still worked, somewhat. By the pain that followed the rhythm of her sluggish heartbeat, she surmised that she was at least marginally alive, but it was too little for Malachi to see. 

_ “It would have been nice,”  _ he continued in a wistful tone.  _ “Someone to share secrets with, someone to look out for…”  _

His voice faded, a monotone hum replacing all sounds. Jozefa felt as if she was choking on her own breath, darkness falling over her like a shroud. She tried to claw it away, to push against the heaviness that threatened to descend on her. But it all felt as if she was drowning, reaching for a quickly fading light. Frantically, she sought out her brother’s voice.  _ Anything _ to keep herself from sinking away further and further. 

_ “Do you know how our father was?”  _

No, she didn’t know that. Indrani had told her things, but she didn’t believe any of them anymore. Spiteful words from a woman set on destroying a kingdom. 

_ “He was brave and strong, but… tolerated no opinion but his own… did you know that, Jozefa?”  _

Oh, how strange her name sounded on his tongue. 

_ “Would you allow me to be your general, Jozefa?” _

She felt warm and tired. Rest was all she wanted to do, yet she was struggling to remain awake enough just to hear the things he had to say. Based on what she knew of him, he would have made a fine general, she thought to herself as she heard the word  _ 'queen' _ in the mottled mess that was her brain. Jozefa had doubts that she would fill that role well, she had only ever spent her life doing her mother’s bidding.

_ “I wouldn’t dare to usurp you, my sister. I’m not like her… like our mother.” _

Of that much she was certain, for no one was like their mother. She was thankful that he never truly had to know what she was like. The bitter words aimed to wound her, the way she could stare right through you. Even in silence she somehow made her feel like she was never good enough.

_ “Neither are you.”  _

Jozefa wanted to believe that. She knew she had saved the Cathayan woman from a fate worse than death, twice now. But the innumerable amount of nights she had spent severing the throats of the red queen’s enemies, leaving behind a trail of blood and bodies, made her think otherwise. She didn’t even want to take into consideration the amount of widows and orphans she had created, so she allowed herself to drift off.

A distinct sound of the heavy dungeon doors slamming shut caused her to stir, but she was still unable to move. How long had passed, she did not know. It could have been minutes, hours or days. Malachi’s voice cut through the dark atmosphere.

_ “Kramer!” _

Even through the fog, she figured that was the witch hunter, coming to join them. Jozefa wondered if her mother had been successful in obtaining the book from him. She hoped that wasn’t the case. 

_ “She does not seem to have fared well.” _

She heard his voice, much more weary sounding than her brother’s. His statement followed by a series of coughing fits. Clearly he had not fared well either. She tried to listen to their ramblings, picking up a word here and there, but her body was giving out on her. Eventually the words they spoke began to echo uncomfortably in her ears. Jozefa soon found herself wishing they would both stop talking, so she could have some peace. She tried to block them out as they continued.

_ “Do you know what this means?”  _ She heard the witch hunter as he shuffled about.

_ “That I am cursed.” _ Malachi replied, his tone sullen.

_ “No, that you are blessed. Do you remember what the book said?” _

Kramer’s question to her brother sparked interest in her, and she strained to listen. She had never been allowed to study the book, her mother had forbade her from ever touching it. The witch hunter had possessed it for quite some time, and judging by the excited whisper with which he was now using, he must have learned something important from it. A quiet fell over the chamber and she knew it was most likely a coven guard rotation. It was a threat she knew wouldn’t linger for long, especially since she was in here and not out there monitoring them. As much faith as the red queen had placed in her coven, they were relatively ignorant when it came to matters such as this. Jozefa would never have allowed them to detain the three of them together, no matter how badly injured they were.

The silence was deafening, and although she had wished for it, the thought of learning something from the book which could possibly be used against her mother intrigued her, even if she never had the chance to see it through. Her body fought against her, she could feel the infection running through her veins. She knew she was dying.

Muffled voices began to exchange conversation once again. Jozefa tried to move closer towards them, but was unable to.

_ "Death will come... the fiery coven,"  _ The witch hunter said.

Her heart was hardly beating, yet it’s rhythmic sound filled her ears. Several words were lost in the noise, and try as she might she could not understand enough to piece them together. Another string of words broke through.

_ “... but take heed, for her power grows.” _

It was hopeless, Jozefa now knew. She felt a wetness on her face and couldn’t tell if it was from tears, or from blood. Just as she began to slip back into the comforts of unconsciousness, she heard a disturbance in their cell.

She  _ felt  _ a disturbance in her cell. The life force was being drained from someone nearby, that much was certain. Her attunement to the dark magic the coven member was using told her that much, and she hoped that it wasn’t Malachi. Even though the witch hunter held knowledge. Soon, his choking and gasping stopped, and the room remained silent for a few seconds.

_ “You are no longer any use to us,”  _ a coven member uttered as he finished the spell.  _ “You’ll be next if you don’t keep quiet.” _

Her brother’s silent sobs kept her company until she could no longer fight back the cloud of illness which had been trying to consume her. Finally, she allowed it to take her to wherever it was she was destined to go next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Social media of Greypaws:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/morttimus  
> https://greypaws6896.tumblr.com/
> 
> Social media of Braz:  
> https://brazenedminstrel.tumblr.com/  
> https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233
> 
> (Please don't watch Witchville)


End file.
